


Gorgeous Chaos

by EAI



Series: COLDFLASHWEEK2017B [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bottom Leonard Snart, Coldflashweek2017B, Hunter!Len, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mute Len, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural!Barry, Violence, just a short bit but ehh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAI/pseuds/EAI
Summary: For a belated ColdFlashWeek2017B - SupernaturalBarry returns home after so many years.





	Gorgeous Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing. Not my first porn, even though it's a short one, but ehh...
> 
> English is not my first language, but do enjoy :3

 

 

 

 

For centuries, creatures of the night lived as peacefully in the obscurities, away from the unpredictable mortals of the light. These creatures were veiled from unwanted eyes and protected, as they possessed ethereal qualities that were both defensive and bellicose by a warlock who could see them; who managed to survive as long as them, who sympathized all nocturnal creations. As a consequence, they were lost to mythical stories and legends before bed. But this serenity lived on until the good warlock’s untimely death, poisoned by the greed of his own kin, and so the illusion shattered. The blindness from the outside world continued for a few months, where the creatures carefully attempted to savor the warlock’s lingering kindness, but it ended just as quickly.

Humans are now aware of their existence and the gravity of their mystical powers. They begin to fear them. Beings that lurk and creep and kill in the darkness, they say. Vile, monstrous beings. Demons that slither on all fours.

Blah, blah, blah; et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Then comes the faction that vows to eliminate the creatures altogether, where each of them seals their promise with a spill of their blood and out into the woodlands to kill. They are called, **hunters**. They capture; they murder, they burn, they sever, they gut, they poach, they raid clans after clans of creatures until there are hardly any.

But one does not kill nature’s creations that simply and so leisurely. In its efforts to retrieve the losing balance of nocturnal beings, an irremediable curse has been conjured.

For a human, either man or woman, who has murdered over a thousand creatures – be it vampires or werewolves; specters or ugly trolls, sirens and witches, or those in between blood-drinkers and shape-shifters – will become one of the nocturnes themselves. Sink into the depths of hell, become too powerful and uncontrollable. Be so terribly, blood-thirsty. A very attractive curse, isn’t it? Well, no, because nature does not work that kindly.

Countless has fallen. You are damned to lose your humanly values, you will forget your memories and your name. Your skin and your flesh will shed from your bones. You will be called, the **accursed** , and will be hunted in all tragic ways that you’ve used to hunt.

Only if you consume the claret of a willing ancient creature, once every red blood moon, then you are able live as normally as you can. Persuade yourself that you are still human, if you manage.

Barry may not look it, but he has lived for a very, very long time. He’s been alone and seen myriads of clashes and losses, battles and deaths, of his family, his friends and fellow creatures to the hands of mindless hunters. He has promised Francisco the good warlock that he will live until the end. Too bad he’s an ancient that his life is constantly at risk, these hunters seem to love searching for him. But fret not, he’s as equally as strong as an accursed when the threats become too much.

Now that the sun has fallen and the blood moon has come to a close, Barry ventures out of his hide in the forest, after recuperating for so long, and warps to the modest dwelling on the edge of the cliff. He frowns, he doesn’t remember ever seeing the house this gloomy. The once vibrant, heavenly field of flowers has long withered and perished. But he understands, it’s been years since he’s visited this nostalgic place – years since his last blood moon.

Barry smells no burning oil nor incense to obscure the human scent, but there is a familiar whiff so fragrant to him that he loves and misses so much. He melts through the walls, sighs at the feel of despair and loneliness, and goes up the stairs to follow the alluringly, sweet aroma where he finally finds the subject of his desire writhing in pain on the floor. Sweat, glistening his heated bare skin; his hunter’s runes shimmering against bumps of scars, hair as white as snow, fingers clawing bloody at the floorboards. Barry calls the accursed’s name, steps into the room and gathers him in his arms – the accursed cries upon seeing Barry’s face. But the once beautiful pair of blue eyes are now in shades of black and red and orange, a mess of gorgeous chaos.

He’s changing.

“Leonard,” he whispers. “Come now, it’s time to feed.”

 

*

 

—leaking cock rubbing against Barry’s lean stomach, Leonard winces at the stinging bites and feels blood trickling down his own naked skin as he takes as much as he can – drinking the ancient’s blood at the good chomp he’s made in the crook of his neck. He squirms, hooking his legs around Barry’s waist, letting Barry’s cold hands wander, running up his back, and tracing the lines of his scars and the runes he does not use anymore.

It has been years. Years of isolation and pure torment, and hunger.

The hunters said, mocking and looming over him when they found out, that it was a fault of his own he had reached his thousandth kill. But Leonard was never a hunter, he was a slave – forced to gamble his life and had the runes etched on his skin. The hunters cut off his tongue, and were prepared to leave him to die and rot, instead of killing him out of mercy. But he met Barry not long after – an ancient with weary hazel eyes, but the creature looked at him with understanding. Not empathy but fond. He asked Leonard, if he wanted to live. And so he answered, yes.

Barry brought him the heads of the hunters who banished him, offering a good seat beside his ancient throne as he lengthened Leonard’s life span to parallel his. It would take him long to age, like Barry, but the changing color of his hair would forever mark him as an accursed. Barry allowed and encouraged him to drink his full during his first blood moon, and his second, and his third. Soon, they fell in love. But their romance was short-lived as they were attacked by the grandchildren of the ten hunters Barry beheaded. They fought and won, but Barry took the brunt. He told Leonard to bury him deep in the forest where he could recover, back to where he belonged.

Years... so many years later, he’s now here.

Leonard whimpers and trembles when Barry grinds and thrusts up, hard cock relentlessly stroking his prostate, keeping up a punishing pace. He tangles his fingers in Barry’s brown hair, as he continues to drink and drink and drink.

“Ah, my dear, you’re insatiable,” the ancient groans, hands bruising his lover's hips, sighing in relief when Leonard clings on to him tightly. "I missed you too."

 

 

 

 


End file.
